Catching Water
by M. Rhae
Summary: Rich girls can't fall for thug guys. That's rule one of the Kirijo Code, and it's ground zero for the Aragaki Creed.
1. Out of the Storm

_**o1.**  
_

_**Out of the Storm  
**_

_Under the gentle influence of the late-night breeze, Shinjiro's knees buckled, and he fell to the cold, hard surface of the alley, the full moon spilling over him. Shrieking, he curled into a ball, and his arms clutched his legs in a desperate attempt to regain some order and control. His pupils were dilated, and his iris was irritated. But most importantly, there were coffins surrounding him in all directions. And upon further inspection, they were oozing blood._

"_Hey. Come on." A hand stretched out, and silver hair blazed lime beneath the eerie green luminescence. "You're going to be alright."_

_Dark eyes met grey, and then Shinjiro was pulled up, an arm slung around his shoulder._

"_Everything is going to be okay."_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As he made his way over to the porch of the dorm, his hat plastered with rain and his coat drooping with cold, sticky rainwater, he saw her. Her also-wet hair shone red and brilliant while her amber-brown eyes glowed radiantly. "You're Aragaki, aren't you? Shinjiro?"

"Yeah," he gruffed, looking away quickly as he felt his face grow warm. "And you're a Kirijo." He didn't look at her face as he stepped onto the platform in front of the door. He wanted to push his way inside, but it was his first day, and he didn't know where to go. And of course Aki was out to dinner with his teammates. So it was just him and little Miss Kirijo.

_Everyone_ knew about the Kirijos. Owning nearly everything on the damned island, they were _the _family and _the _business. From computers to hospitals to power plants to high-tech testing centers, they were the authority on everything. And he bet that future CEO knew it.

So when he finally looked up at his companion and saw the quiet yet powerful twinkle in the pit of her eyes, he wasn't surprised. Not in the least.

"I am a Kirijo," she said, her voice low and soft yet assertive and appealing. "My first name is Mitsuru. It's a pleasure to meet you, Shinjiro Aragaki."

When she held out her hand and smiled, her teeth pearly white and completely straight, Shinjiro was a bit taken aback. Prissy heiress wanted to touch his filth? He stared at the finely-polished, manicured hand before shoving his hand inside its grasp, pausing to take in its smooth, cool texture. It was what he expected, and it disgusted him. She seemed to be "perfect" in every way, like a true Kirijo.

"Please come set your things inside," she then offered, reaching down for Shinjiro's torn, matted suitcase. He felt her hand grasp the handle he was clutching, and though he resisted, he felt her strong grip and slight pull. He then released his hold and watched as she took his dirty, germ-infected luggage into his new, cleanly home. He couldn't believe she would do that.

"I'm afraid that it's a tad cluttered in here," she said when he entered. Shinjiro closed the door behind him and turned to gaze at the castle before him. "As I'm sure you know, Akihiko isn't the most tidy, and I've been too busy with school and Student Council to thoroughly clean."

"It's fine," he grunted, eyeing the pathetic pile of Aki's clothes that must have been the "clutter." If she thought _that _was clutter, she'd sure have a reality check after Shinjiro got settled into his room.

"Would you like something warm to drink?" Turning around, Shinjiro saw her face in the light for the first time. It was slightly flushed from the sudden heat of the dorm, but with her shining hair and sparkling eyes, it looked almost better than it did pale. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, she wasn't a hag. Not at all. And for some reason, that thought made his stomach give a nervous jump along with a growl.

"I'll take that as a yes," she mused, not waiting for him to answer as she strolled over to the kitchen area. "I'll also prepare you some cake. Please take a seat and dry off."

_Okay, boss. Whatever you say. _As he fell down on the couch and shrugged out of his boots and soaking peacoat, he couldn't help feeling awkward and irritated. Where he came from, people took care of themselves. No one carried others' baggage, no one offered to make hot beverages, no one got out cake; no one ever cared about anyone but themselves. So coming into a posh dorm with a posh girl dressed in a regular uniform splashed with designer accessories, Shinjiro felt out of place and wrong. As he listened to the rain and of her clinking around in the kitchen, he couldn't stand it.

But deep down inside of him, almost hiding, he felt a little flattered. Sitting back and relaxing, his eyes slowly closing, it _sort of _felt nice. If anything, it was relieving to not have to worry about himself for the next five minutes or so.

And when she came back with the tea and cake, she was very gentle and respectful. She set the plate and mug down on the coffee table, and she noiselessly sat down on the armchair to his right. When he opened his eyes and began to plow everything down, she watched, and she waited.

"Not bad," he said when he was done, letting out a belch. "You make that cake?"

"Yes. It was for Home Economics class."

"Huh. Well, it's alright."

"Thank you." And even though he never came out and complimented her, she smiled just like he had. Glancing sideways at her, Shinjiro grabbed the rim of his mug and shoved the rest of his tea down his throat. Why did she have to be so genuine and thankful? Weren't rich snobs supposed to be snooty?

"Well, now that you're fed, I suppose it's time to talk about your living arrangements." She waited for him to comment, and after he didn't, she resumed. "This dorm has four floors, and two of them are reserved for resident housing. The second floor is for males, and the third is for females. Akhiko has the second room on the left on your floor, so you may have any of the remaining four."

"Are they all the same?" He didn't look up from his mug. He was trying to absorb all of the lingering warmth.

"Yes, they are. Yet nonetheless, you can look at all of them and see which one feels the best."

"I'll take the one across from Aki," Shinjiro said, lifting his head to stare at her. "He's all I've got, and I wanna be right there with him."

Mitsuru nodded, and for a moment, Shinjiro caught a bit of sympathy enter her neutral, thoughtful gaze. As his body bristled and his mind blared with defensive, threatening retaliations, he thought about it for a minute, and then he stopped. If that really just happened, it proved that Miss Loaded had a heart. And if that were true, it would utterly confuse Shinjiro and his experience with rich folks, and it would totally make it hard to look at her the same as he looked at all the others.

"Shall we?" Mitsuru asked, picking up his suitcase. Looking at her in her sleek black skirt and slightly-wrinkled yet still fancy ruffled blouse, Shinjiro still could not believe it. He nodded, and then they were off, Shinjiro trudging along in Mitsuru's elegant wake.

"Here we are," she said a minute later, placing his baggage on the ground and folding her arms across her chest. "There's a bed, closet, sink, desk, table, and bookshelf inside. Restrooms are on the ground floor, and the kitchen is as well. There's also a small library and extra computer."

Barely nodding to her, Shinjiro grabbed his suitcase and then shuffled inside, stopping to stare at the space that was to be considered his. It was larger than anything he had ever lived in, and as he stared around at the actually nice and clean furniture, he felt a lump form in the back of his throat.

"Is there anything else that you need?"

"No," he coughed, trying to clear his throat and his ridiculously clouding emotions. He waited for some kind of pleasant farewell and unconditional offer of service, but as he stood there, he heard none.

"Akihiko will be home in less than an hour," is what he heard. He then heard her voice fading down the hall. "Rest well so we can start training."

Turning around to stare at the place she had just been standing, Shinjiro let his face settle into a grimace and his hand move to scratch the top of his forehead. She was so different yet so typical. How could that be? What did it mean?

Grunting, Shinjiro kicked his luggage aside and then fell on the bed, which was strikingly soft and warm. His boots and coat were back down in the lounge, but it didn't matter to him. He wasn't going anywhere, and no one was going to steal them. For the first time in his life, he could lay down on a feather-light bed and allow himself to drift off to sleep with his things scattered around the building.

And as he slept, the rain continuing to pound against the double-paned surface of his window, he dreamed of dripping ruby hair, sparkling amber eyes, shiny leather boots, and moist vanilla cake.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona Series.**

Thank you for reading the start to my little drabble of what might and could have happened between two of our favorite senpai! Please let me know what you think! I hope I didn't mess up Shinjiro's character! :)


	2. Igniting the Flame

_**O2.**_

_**Igniting the Flame**_

_Panting, Shinjiro hurdled from the second floor to the first, his neck craning back behind him. A wild, blazing roar sounded, and the beginnings of bright, bursting flames erupted from the walls. His dark eyes wide, Shinjiro skirted around the border of the kitchen to skid to a halt in the center of the lounge, staring at his company with terror._

_ "What are you doing?" he shouted at a tall, slender redhead. "Get out! The fire's coming!"_

_ Merely smiling at him, the woman picked up her things and then walked away, moving directly towards the now smoking flame of the staircase._

_ Before Shinjiro could stop her, a heavy hand took a blow at his temple. Dazed, he stumbled and saw Akihiko flash an impish grin at him. The boxer also moved towards the fire._

_ "Aki! What the hell!"_

_ "Shut up, Shinji," he scoffed, taking Mitsuru's hand. "We were all meant to die, and we're simply answering our calling. We're going to see Miki again."_

_ Colors swirled and images blurred, and Shinjiro was left squinting in terror as his two roommates stepped into the raging mass of orange destruction._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Nightmares like that dragged.

Awaking with a shudder, Shinjiro stared up at the ceiling and then felt around his surroundings. He was entangled in his cold, sweat-infested bed sheets, and everything was still intact. The fire never happened.

Dreams like that had grown to be more and more common for Shinjiro. And since he first went to Tartarus on the day after his arrival, he had become subject to severe, pounding headaches. They'd hit him out of nowhere, and they'd stay for hours at a time. And for some reason, Shinjiro knew it wasn't just a Persona user thing.

He found himself drained and less interested in anything not related to killing shadows. To Miss Kirijo's dismay, he'd often skip school. And more often than not, that would cause quite the disturbance, like during his twelfth day living at the dorms.

Dripping with perspiration and reeking of alcohol, Shinjiro burst open the door and barged into the lounge, a loud burp reverberating from the core of his stomach. He managed to jimmy the door shut, and he then wobbled over to the couches, practically falling out of his coat and boots.

After a little over a week with his persona and his excruciating side effects, Shinjiro had decided he had enough. Skipping school that Saturday morning, he traveled over to the alley behind Port Station, and when they started to serve beer and booze, he bullied his way into getting some.

When he drank, he felt better. That was evident and expected. Castor settled down, and his mind made the familiar, pleasurable jump from aching and worried to relaxed and amused. Only this time, it took away the migraines, and it would probably stop the nightmares.

But as he collapsed on the nearest couch after a day of drinking with the intentions of letting go and letting loose, that didn't happen. Not with Mitsuru there.

"…Where have you been?" It was a simple question, but the way _she _said it, it sounded like the most intense of interrogations.

"Out," Shinjiro slurred, not bothering to look up.

"I noticed that you weren't at school today," she replied. Shinjiro heard the soft spring of the couch. When she spoke again, her voice was closer. "And I also notice that you are in no way capable of going to Tartarus tonight."

"Whatever," he grunted, trying to block her out and catch some sleep. His mind was still lulled by the alcohol, and he really wanted to see if they would stop the nightmares.

But as he let out a slight sigh, he felt a hand roughly grab the roots of his hair. Screeching, Shinjiro pushed himself up to look into the furious porcelain face of his companion.

"Hey, lay of –"

"We have rules beneath the roof of this dorm, Aragaki."

"Yeah, but why do'ya gotta –"

"No popping pills, no doing drugs, and _no _drinking alcohol."

"You don't under –"

"Oh, but I do understand, Aragaki." He stopped, staring up at her. "You're finding it hard to adjust to the life of a persona user. You're having nightmares, experiencing pain, finding yourself groggy and exhausted."

Did it happen to her too, Shinjiro wondered? But all he could do was continue to gaze into the pits of her amber-brown eyes.

"Things like that are going to happen," she continued, her tone softening. "It's not an easy way of life, and we didn't expect you to magically adapt. But this is not the way to go about it. You must be strong, and you must resist temptation."

The way she spoke sent shivers down Shinjiro's spine. She was so articulate, so motivating, so moving; so sincere. And most importantly, she smelled simply exquisite. Like lilacs. And her face, beautiful and natural, was inches away from his own. He was really letting the alcohol get to him.

"So what do I do?" he finally asked, his voice thick and heavy.

"You turn yourself around," she answered, moving to take his arm and prop him up. "We get you to a cold shower and then put you to bed. You take tomorrow off, and then you go to school and to Tartarus on Monday."

"So you're going to take a shower with me?" He couldn't help it, and in turn, he felt a boyish grin spread across his face. And to his surprise, he saw a slight grin enter Mitsuru's.

"Washing you shall be Akihiko's job," she said, helping him up to a standing position. "I will monitor your progress from the moment you have clothes on."

Turning to look at Akihiko, who seemed to have entered the room on cue, Shinjiro again smiled at her, feeling all warm and slightly sensuous. He knew that alcohol screwed with his mind, but he didn't know it'd be like this.

"I'll call you when I'm changing," he slurred, letting the boxer half drag him over to the boy's bathroom. Taking one final look at her, Shinjiro saw Mitsuru's trademark worry and focus blend with slight amusement. He felt a throb in an area that he shouldn't have.

And as Akihiko threw him in the shower and turned on the water, leaving Shinjiro to undress and sober up, he was actually happy.

Someone in the world besides Akihiko actually cared about him. And from the way his intoxicated mind and body were acting, perhaps he cared about her, too.

* * *

**Disclaimer: The Persona Series belongs to Atlus.**

Again, thank you for reading! Hope it wasn't too bad :) have a nice day!


	3. The Ways of the Dark

__**Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona Series.  
**

****I haven't updated this in a while, (I've been busy with the demands and constraints of college) but I've been working on the project and trying to improve it. A special thanks to Mysterious Loser for all your help. :) anyway, here's my most recent submission! Please read and review and let me know how it's going!

* * *

**_o3._**

**_The Ways of the Dark  
_**

_It was suffocating to be trapped within the vague, grimy walls of Tartarus at night. With the ever-changing unknown and the constant worry of lurking enemies, it never stopped, and it was truly a nightmare of its own._

_ But for Shinjiro, it didn't go away when he drank or popped some pills. _

_During these times, it was real, and he couldn't wake up._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Pushing it to the limit was definitely a stupid expression. As Shinjiro sliced the last head of a cowering maya, he distantly heard Akihiko call that he'd travel ahead, and he was dimly aware of another presence as he flopped to the ground.

"Aragaki?" she said, her voice close and bathed with a hint of concern. "Are you alright?"

"No," Shinjiro gruffed, glancing at Mitsuru from the corner of his eye. "I can't take this anymore. This shit's crazy."

Castor let out some pretty defiant and unruly protests, and it was all Shinjiro could do to not whimper aloud. He curled up in a ball and squeezed his eyes shut, and he willed the damned beast to keep its power in check, though of course he didn't.

In the first two weeks of awakening to his "power," Shinjiro didn't feel gifted at all. He actually felt cursed, and with moments like curling up on the ground with mysterious monsters scattered all around him, he wished he had never been blessed with anything so fishy and shady. He wished he could be curled up in his _bed, _and he wished he could still be at the orphanage with Aki and Miki. He wished that everything didn't have to be so freaking insane and trippy.

As he crouched there, a soft hand gently touched the small of Shinjiro's back, but it was the following words that caused him to look up from his physical defense. "Shinjiro… You're okay. You're going to be fine."

It was first time Mitsuru had ever called him by his first name. Looking up at her, Shinjiro found himself lost in the pits of her sparkling eyes. "It's just going to take some time," she continued, her hand moving to slightly tapping his back. "The power of persona is too much for an average soul to handle. Therefore, one must be _trained _to work and manage it; one must get used to it _in time. _You've only just begun your experience, so you have nothing to fret over. Please don't get consumed with rage and shame, and please allow yourself some time to adjust."

Still staring at her, Shinjiro didn't know what to say. She was less than a foot away from him, and even without the alcohol and in the tense atmosphere of Tartarus, he felt a funny feeling stir in his stomach. He found himself staring at her hair and her skin, and the more he looked, the more his stomach jolted.

"I bet you didn't have any problems," he finally snorted, averting his eyes from hers. And in all sincerity, she probably didn't. Typical Kirijo; typical _Mitsuru_.

But to his surprise, the redhead sighed heavily and shifted her feet a little. "Actually, that's not true." Shinjiro's brows flicked, and Mitsuru watched him. "The truth is that I, well… That I wasn't exactly, um…"

His interest perked, Shinjiro looked up again to stare at her. She gave a nervous glance at him before looking down again. "Unlike you and Akihiko, I didn't exactly –"

Before she could finish, Mitsuru's head snapped up to stare in the opposite direction, her eyes suddenly hardening. "There are shadows coming. We'd better get moving. Come on."

"Where we headed?" Shinjiro demanded, pushing himself up and slinging his axe over his shoulder.

Mitsuru motioned for him to hurry as she sped down a hallway. "Anywhere away from here."

As if she had a goddamn map or something, the Student Council President ambled down the passage ways and then came to a stumbling, engulfing halt. They were at a dead end, and in the distance, Shinjiro could hear the slurping, oozing approach of shadows. It was either time to kick some ass or get some whipped.

"Akihiko, can you hear me?" Mitsuru was fiddling with her earpiece. "Akihiko? Akihiko, are you there?"

Shinjiro's back stiffened slightly. "It's just a bunch of static. He can't hear you."

Mitsuru nodded and then looked at him expectantly. Shinjiro brought his axe down and clutched the handle, a smirk flashing across his face.

"Alright, Aragaki," she said, her voice low and laced with a slight snarl as the twitch of a smile played across her lips. "It's time to fight."

"Let's do this," he agreed, spitting off to the side. "Come and get us, you bastards."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You're hurt." His eyes glazing over in pain, Shinjiro looked up to see Mitsuru crouching over him, her hair dangling to the side.

"'S nothin'," he mumbled, wincing as his body lolled to the side. Laying there in the filth of some freaky tower, he was furious and enraged; embarrassed and ashamed. How could he let that happen? How did he not see the enemy's blow coming? And of course Castor didn't help.

"Stay still," she murmured, lowering herself down to her knees. Her long, pale fingers weaved around Shinjiro's side, and he couldn't help but shutter. She surprisingly had a very tender, feminine touch about her. At a glance, one wouldn't think that about her. But at a gaze, it was there, and it was real.

"What the hell are you doing?" Something hot washed over Shinjiro's flesh, and he painfully jerked away from the redhead and shoved her hand away. She didn't flinch, and she continued to burn him from the inside out with her damned, gentle touch.

"Could you please sit up now, Aragaki?"

"Sit up?" Shinjiro repeated, panting and struggling as he smoothed the sweat-infused fibers of his already-straggly hair. "What the hell are you trying to do? Kill me or something?"

"Just do as I say."

His eyes glaring into hers, he sat bolt upright. Her eyes shimmering with triumph, he let out a surprised, satisfied grunt. His previously butchered side no longer bothered him.

"Are you ready?" she asked, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "We're going to return to the entrance. Akihiko's already there."

"Yeah," Shinjiro mumbled, struggling to stand up. Though no longer bleeding and dying, he still felt a slight prick at the tender skin on the side of his torso. But Mitsuru took no heed as she swept forward, her sword perched for any oncoming attacks.

"Shit," he again mumbled, slowly trudging forward. "You're one tough chick."


	4. A Flame's Fervor

**o4.**_  
_

**A Flame's Fervor  
**

* * *

_Imagination turns to dreams, dreams turn to nightmares, and sometimes, nightmares can become reality._

_ Staring at it, he couldn't believe it. His vision swirled red, and all was lost in a haze. Blurred clarity overcame his temporary lapse, and as he inched closer, he recognized it for what it truly was._

_ There, in the exact center of the room, _his _room_, _was Mitsuru._

_ And there, in the opposite corner, were her clothes. _

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Tartarus is a nasty business. Shinjiro had always known that. But when his thigh gets banged up to the point of no excellent repair, it really does become terrifying. And when Mitsuru has to literally half-carry him up to his room, it's damn embarrassing.

As kind as she's been to him the past few months, he still didn't want to have to always rely on her. Trekking through the city at midnight in the arms of a beautiful girl was a bit mind-blowing, he'll admit, and as much as he didn't complain about her fancy, thrilling perfume wafting through his nostrils as his head rested on the soft feather of her shoulder, it was still weird.

And not to mention that her tits were only a few inches away.

"Mitsuru, I can –"

"_No, _Aragaki." Her voice was firm. "My persona couldn't heal your wounds, so don't be as preposterous to think that you can."

_Does she even realize how this looks? _As canny as she is, she probably did. But as responsible as she is, she probably didn't care.

With Akihiko scouting ahead, it made it look even worse. Shinjiro started sweating, but it wasn't entirely out of pain. With a glance of those shimmering amber-brown eyes, he knew that Mitsuru noticed. But did she understand what it meant?

"Here – Let's get you through the door. Come on." Now practically lying on top of her as they jimmied through the door, Shinjiro felt his ears grow hot of embarrassment as they slithered into the door together. It felt wrong, and as he found himself pressed against her front, he felt the embarrassment spread to his cheeks. He didn't want to be doing that.

Moving hopefully towards the couch, Shinjiro groaned and winced as Mitsuru gave a quick jerk towards the stairs. He dragged his good leg along and breathed in deeply when they hit the first stair. It was like getting shot directly through the eye. Shit.

"I… I can't…"

With a slight sigh, Mitsuru stopped and then grabbed his injured leg, putting it atop of her own. She then took hold of Shinjiro's waist and literally picked him up for every step. He felt his leg brush against her skirt every time, and he felt her firm, strong hold on his side. As humiliating and degrading that it was for him to need help from some skinny chick, he was impressed, though more uncomfortable.

Reaching the end of the hall, Mitsuru took out her own master key and stuck it into the lock.

"You can do that?" Shinjiro wheezed, starting to feel the combined effect of both Tartarus and his loss of blood.

"Of course I can," she remarked. She weaseled him through the door again. "I can break into your room at any time."

Though she stated it as a fact, and potentially a joke, it made Shinjiro blush. He then blushed even more when he realized what he was blushing about. Why was he so nervous and giddy? He was recalling and fretting over everything like a goddamned thirteen year-old.

Limping into his room, he shrugged out of his filthy peacoat, kicked off the one boot that he could, and then collapsed onto his crumb-infested bed. It hurt, and as he yelped, he heard footsteps come from somewhere behind him. Mitsuru was still there?

"You need to take your other boot off," she ordered, coming to yank it off for him. Shinjiro yelped again, but it caught him by surprise when her breath was right beside his ear. "I need to look at your wound, so I'm going to roll you over."

For some reason, her words made him shiver. He allowed her to take hold of his waist and move him so that he was on his back, looking up at her. She was leaning over the bed, but she wasn't quite on it. Perhaps it was too dirty for her.

"Let's see," she mused, narrowing her eyes and focusing on the crusted surface of his leg. He felt more pain just by looking at it. "That's quite a gash… Could it be… Poisoned?"

"Poisoned?" Shinjiro reached over to cup his wound, the sudden movement causing a bout of dizziness to wash over him. He swayed sideways, but before he could hit the hard surface of the ground, Mitsuru caught him.

Holding his upper body with the strength of hers, she hoisted him back to his bed.

She then stumbled on his kicked-off boot and fell on top of him.

"Mitsuru, how's Shin –"

Looking over the top of Mitsuru's head, Shinjiro saw Akihiko freeze in the threshold of the door, his gray eyes wide but then narrowed to glare directly into Shinjiro's.

Shit.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Nothing happened, Aki."

"Oh sure. She was laying all over you for nothing, then!"

"I was about to pass out, and she caught my fall and then tripped over my boot."

"Oh yeah? And why was the boot on the ground? Stripping our clothes, were we?"

Was he for real? His nostrils flaring, Shinjiro couldn't believe what he was hearing. Pacing around the space near his bed, Akihiko was acting like a ten year-old school boy. And as he continued to pry into the situation, to delve deeper into absolutely nothing, Shinjiro began to wonder about something. Why did Akihiko even _care_?

"That's enough, Akihiko." Both Shinjiro and Akihiko jumped, and with dread yet a buried sense of pleasure, Shinjiro turned to see Mitsuru stroll into the room. Her arms were crossed against her chest, and her look was deadly. Shinjiro wouldn't want to run across her in a dark alley at night.

"Right. I'll just let you cozy on over to his bed again, then."

"I said that was enough, Akihiko." A look passed between the two, and after a few moments, Akihiko lowered his head.

"I'm gonna go for a walk, then," he puffed, sidestepping her to head towards the door.

As he passed her, Mitsuru put an arm out, brushing against the hem of his sleeve. "You are to go to bed. I daresay we've all had a rough night."

Akihiko grunted, and as he pushed his way out of the room, Shinjiro noticed the hint of concern that flashed through Mitsuru's eyes.

"You worry about him, huh?" He didn't know what made him say it. It kind of slipped out like a drunken statement.

"I suppose," she answered, slowly walking towards him. The concern was back, now clouded with… Guilt? "He just doesn't know how to cool his temper. He's a very passionate person, and I'm afraid that it could get the best of him."

_Passionate, eh? _That was Castor, and as shocked as Shinjiro was that he had been listening and acting so civilized, he tried to ignore him. _Wonder how she knows that he's passionate._

Shinjiro grunted, and he then turned away from Mitsuru to lay back down on his bed, propping his injured leg up on a coffee-stained pillow.

"Are you sure that you'll be alright?"

"Yeah. Leave me alone."

Silence met his words, and though Shinjiro's face was smashed against his damp pillow, he could almost see the quick flash of confusion that must've crossed Mitsuru's porcelain face. He waited for her next words, but after a few intense moments, he heard the opening and closing of a door.

"See what you did?" He grunted aloud, feeling a sudden wave of hatred consume his soul. His daemon stirred restlessly inside of him, but Shinjiro channeled this movement with a force much stronger. "You had to go barging in at the exact wrong moment. You had to screw all this shit up."

_I'm merely a shadow of the innermost feelings of your heart._

A wave of shock overcame Shinjiro, but he brushed it off almost immediately. "No one knows what I feel, and no one, especially a goddamned freak of nature, can tell me what to do."

_But you'll always hear it. _Shinjiro shut his eyes, willing it to stop. He'd never heard it before, and he didn't want to. _No matter where you go, Shinjiro, I shall always be here. And I'll always speak the truth. Even if it kills you._

With a bellow of rage, Shinjiro rammed his fists against the head of his bed and thrashed his body against his covers.

A floor above, a redhead sat quietly on the foot of her king-sized bed, and her head was craned tensely in his direction.

* * *

Sorry for the hiatus! Please R&R and have a great day.


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